


Seasons Change

by snowkatze



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Insecurity, M/M, Married Couple, Sort of happy ending, sort of getting back together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 07:42:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13119210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowkatze/pseuds/snowkatze
Summary: Simon breaks up with Baz after twelve years of marriage.





	Seasons Change

I couldn't believe that he called me. After twelve years of marriage, that's all he was able to give me. Or maybe it was _because_ of twelve years of marriage. Maybe that was the reason he couldn't even look me in the eye.

He called me. That bastard.

“I think we should take a break.”  
As if that's ever all anyone means by that. Just a short break, and everything will be back to normal. I don't fucking think so.

“Are you joking?”  
I seriously thought he'd never tell me so bluntly. And... I thought he was happy. Or, I fooled myself into thinking so. Twenty years, I thought. Surely not.

“I'm serious.”  
And his voice was so cold and sharp, it cut through my veins. That's when everything froze inside of me.

“I think we should break up.”

He said it like it was easy. For fuck's sake. As if we hadn't lived together for eighteen years, as if we hadn't raised two children together. As if this had been just a fling, a passing thing.

I don't fucking think so.

“Oh.”  
And for the first time in ages, I found myself lost for words.  
I almost dropped the phone, but I didn't.

I held it close to my ear and listened to the static. A million question raced through my mind. What about the children? The house? Why now? Why like this? Why at all?

But I remained silent. I could imagine most of the answers. Almost thirty years of knowing him at all, I thought I knew every single thought in his head, every sentiment in his heart.

Turns out, I didn't know him the slightest.

Over the phone. When it was almost Christmas. For Christ's sake.

“Baz?”  
I still stayed silent and thought of all the things I would've yelled at him ten years ago. I thought of how cold and collected I would've been twenty years ago, making him believe I didn't care at all. But I'm not that guy any more.

“Why?”  
I didn't even try to make my voice void of emotion; I let him have it all.

His voice sounded strangled and I gave my best to make sense of anything he said. He said he didn't want to be with me any more. How could it have made sense?

“I s-suppose... I just... stopped...”

“Say it.”  
He took a deep breath.  
“I stopped loving you.”

I remained silent as the tears ran down my face, the phone next to my ear, static.

 _What about the children_ , I wanted to ask, but I knew his answer. They had left home a few months ago. And now I started to wonder whether he had only stayed for them. I wanted to ask him. For how long. But, even though I had changed a lot, I was still a coward.

“Are you sure?” I asked instead, because I was also still a fool.  
He hesitated,and I let myself hope. Just for one moment, ever so short.

“I have never been more sure about anything.”

“I understand.”

“I'm sorry,” he said. Bloody. Sorry.

“S' fine,” I said.

“Baz.”  
He still said my name like it meant something. Maybe I'd only ever imagined it.

“Really,” I repeated. “I expected this call twenty years ago. You're a bit late.”

“Baz.”  
If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought he was crying, too.

“Baz,” he said again. He was crying. I cancelled the call.

 

* * *

 

I stared at the cardboard box. Twenty years, I thought. Twenty years is a long time. I don't think it will fit in a box that small. How many cherry scones, how many tears, how many hugs and kisses, how much laughter, how much pain, how much time would have to fit in a box that small? Unless, maybe, it was bigger on the inside.

I looked around the room and thought about everything in it that belonged to Snow. It actually wasn't that much. I suppose, he never owned that much to begin with and he was always able to live on very little. There's the little bear I gave him for Christmas once. Some figures of a show we both never watched, that he bought on a flea market because a little girl sold them. The little man out of tin cans he built because he thought the angel statue my father gave me once looked lonely. A box full of sappy Christmas movies he made me watch even though I pretended not to like them. It's hard to believe. Over the fucking phone.

I felt anxious, sitting there, waiting. It was as if I was in the waiting room for the doctor's appointment, just much more unpleasant.

This was not just an uncomfortable procedure. It felt like this would be the last time I would ever truly see him, even though I knew that wasn't true. We still had two children. But things can easily be dealt with over the phone. He proved that to me. This could be the last time I would ever see his face; or at least the last time I would allow myself to look at him.

The dreaded door bell rang, but I didn't get up, because I knew that once I did, it would be over. It would be real. Snow still had a key. That he didn't use it broke something inside of me.

It was a big house, for only one person.

I wouldn't get up; once he realized that, he turned the key in the lock. There was something off about him. The way he walked in, completely stiffly. His eyes kept scanning the room; I could tell that he was nervous about something. Perhaps he did still care, at least a bit.

“Here's the box,” I said and just stared at him. For the last time, I told myself. Twenty years, and he still looked handsome as the devil. “There's still some cherry scones in the fridge.”  
I'm never eating a cherry scone again in my life.

“I don't like sour cherry scones,” he said with a blank voice and my head snapped up. Something was seriously wrong. I looked into his ever blue eyes and I thought to see a hint of panic in his eyes. It was enough for me.

“There's something in the basement I have to show you,” I said. “Come with me.”  
This was going to be embarrassing if I was wrong. I lead him down the stairs to the cellar and closed the door behind us.  
“So, I wanted to ask, are you -”

He cut me off by throwing himself into my arms, his weight nearly crushing me.

“Baz,” he said desperately, and I didn't know how to react.

“Was there somebody watching us?” I whispered.

He nodded.

“He visited them, not me, Baz,” he sobbed. “They made me do it, they said they know where our children are.”  
“Hey, hey, what's going on?”  
“It's twenty years, Baz.”  
Twenty years? _Visited_?  
“The visitings. The veil lifted,” I said and shook my head. Could it be possible?  
“I suppose he still had business to take care of.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“I was supposed to be his heir. What do you think he thought of our relationship?”  
I thought of laughter, hugs and kisses, children's eyes.

“He would've hated it,” I said.

“He did.”  
He shook his head and pressed his forehead against my shoulder. I felt my heart beating fast as I held him closer, thinking I might never get to hold him like this again.

“He visited them, not me.”  
“Who?”  
“The Mage's men. Some of them are still loyal to him.”

“But why?”  
“I think maybe he just can't stand to see me happy. Or maybe he can't stand the thought of his heir having a relationship with the son of Natasha Pitch. I don't know. They made me do it.”  
“What?”  
“Please, Baz. Help me. I'm scared.”

“I promised I would protect you, remember? So I will.”  
“So you will...”  
“The Mage's men are cowards. I'm not afraid of them.”  
“But you haven't fought anybody in twenty years.”  
“So?”

I smirked at him. “Think I haven't still got it?”  
“They said they were going to hurt our children.”  
“Over my dead body.”  
“I thought you didn't believe you were alive.”  
“Here,” I took his hand and held it on my chest. “Still beating. I'm still burning, Snow. I am alive, Just for the sake of it. And I'm going to give them hell.”

_Thirty years of loving you, Simon Snow. Not even I can stay dead inside for such a long time._

“Simon Snow, you're the Chosen One. Can you still call for the Sword of Mages?”  
“I'm not the Chosen One,” he said. I pressed my lips to his ear. It was better than a phone. I could hear him breathing. No static.

“I choose you, Simon Snow,” I whispered. “I choose you.”

He nodded and sent me the smallest smile. Then he muttered the incantation for the Sword of Mages, and it still obeyed him. Even after all these years.

“Are you ready?” he asked and I nodded back at him.

I held up my wands and we turned towards the door. We would fight for this. Until the last beat of my heart, I would fight.

We were Simon Snow and Baz Pitch. Same old, same old. It was us against the world.

 


End file.
